


I Want Candy

by rsconne



Series: Doin' the Monster Mash [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Chocolate, Classic tv monsters, Clexa Halloween Week, F/F, Halloween Costumes, Smut, Trick or Treating, halloween decor, if you find a plot let me know, srsly it's just a vehicle for smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-25 04:47:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12523332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rsconne/pseuds/rsconne
Summary: Day 3: Clexa Halloween Week.  Clarke wants to make healthy snacks for trick-or-treaters.  Lexa has other ideas....





	I Want Candy

Lexa walked through the front door feeling pleased with herself.  It had been a race against the clock, but she’d gotten the last of the Halloween decorations up with time to spare.  She toed off her shoes and made a quick pass through the living room to cue up the “Spooky Halloween” mix on Spotify before proceeding into the kitchen.  Clarke was standing in front of the stove, a mask of concentration on her face.  Lexa came up behind her and wrapped her arms around her middle and rested her chin on her shoulder.

“All done,” she reported. 

Clarke tipped her head to press a quick kiss to Lexa’s lips.  She glanced back at her and did a double take.  She smiled and reached up to disentangle a strand of gauze from Lexa’s brown curls.  “I see you put out the fake cobwebs.  Did you set up the fog machine?  And put batteries in the skeletons?”

“Yes, and yes, although after last year I thought we said we were going to turn off the barking dog one.  That shit got annoying.”

Clarke lifted an ambivalent shoulder.  “Eh.  It’s just one night.  If gets too bad we will.  How about the sarcophagus?  Raven’s been amped about—and I quote—‘scaring the piss out of some anklebiters’ for weeks.”

“ _Yes_ , _and_ I rigged the motion sensor on the hidden camera.  Everything outside is ready,” Lexa said patiently, giving her a quick squeeze.  “Just chill.  You’re so tense.”  Clarke had been increasingly on edge for the last week.  Lexa secretly enjoyed watching her get worked up and passionate about some things, but not like this.  This was pure stress.  She knew what prompted it, but Lexa really wanted Clarke to be able to relax and enjoy her favorite holiday the way she should. 

Clarke exhaled.  “I know, I’m sorry.”  She twisted in Lexa’s arms to kiss her properly.  “Thanks for doing all that, babe.  It means a lot.  Dad and I used to go all out for the trick-or-treaters.  I know it’s a lot of work, but somehow it wouldn’t feel… _right_ …not to.”

Lexa hummed against her lips.  “I know.  I don’t mind, it’s fun.  Besides, it’s worth it to see Anya suffer in whatever costume Raven makes her wear.  I’ve gotten _so_ much mileage out of that fairy godmother get-up.”  A reflective grin at the memory creased her cheeks.  Clarke snickered.  Lexa’s hands dipped a little lower, to Clarke’s hips.  “What time are they getting here, anyway?” she asked innocently.

Clarke checked the clock.  “Another couple of hours.”

Lexa did a quick calculation in her head.  Her lips curved in a smirk and she smoothed her hands up and down Clarke’s thighs a little more deliberately.  Her mouth slipped to Clarke’s jaw and then to the sensitive spot just below her ear.  “I could help you relax,” she murmured suggestively, her hot breath tickling Clarke’s neck. 

Clarke shivered and pressed her thighs together against the flood of warmth at Lexa’s proposition.  “I wish, but I’m behind with the dipped apples,” she said regretfully.  “I finished some of the caramel ones, but I’ve still got the chocolate ones left, and they all need time to cool, and then we have to get our costumes on….”

“… _Or_ we could just give out regular candy like normal people.  Won’t parents freak out about non-sealed treats anyway?”  She nuzzled Clarke’s neck again, sliding her lips lower along the collar of Clarke’s v-neck t-shirt.    

Clarke poked her in the ribs with an elbow.  “These are _healthy_ ,” she said sternly.  “Most of the parents on our street know us.  Besides, I’ve already started,” she added practically.

Lexa grumbled something like _razor blade apples_ under her breath and provoked a hiss with a final quick, sucking bite on Clarke’s neck before she pulled away reluctantly.  “ _Fine_.  Need some help?”

Clarke eyed her askance.  “After the Great Bacon Incident of 2015?  You’re lucky you’re even allowed in the kitchen.”  

“But now neither of us will forget baking soda.  And we needed to repaint that wall, anyway,” Lexa countered with a huff.  “Anyway, I’m not actually _cooking_ anything—it’s just dipping.  How hard can that be?”   

Clarke weighed her offer and relented.  “It _would_ help me finish faster.”  She pulled a second baking sheet out of the drawer under the stove for Lexa to use. 

Lexa tracked the round fullness of Clarke’s ass as she bent over.  She narrowed her eyes and smirked to herself.  _Oh, I’ll help you finish faster_. 

Clarke assembled the necessary materials and turned back to Lexa.  She nearly choked.  Lexa had just unbuttoned the last button of her flannel.  She slowly edged it down her arms, leaving her in just a tight-fitting, black tank top.  She tossed the shirt over a nearby kitchen chair and leaned a cocked hip against the counter.  She crossed her toned arms and batted her eyes at Clarke, the picture of coy innocence.  “Where do you want me, Clarke?”  

Clarke drew in a shaky breath.  “Here, next to me.”  She made space at the counter and set a tray of prepped apples and a pan of warm, melted chocolate between them.  Lexa moved beside her, edging _just_ into Clarke’s personal space, their hips nearly touching.  She reached for an apple, making sure to brush against Clarke’s arm and shoulder as she did so.  She cast a sidelong glance at her and stifled a devious grin at the pink flush evident on her cheeks.  She knew that Clarke would be more receptive to temptation if some of the job was done, so she helped her finish about half the supply of apples.  She slowly increased her inadvertent contact: a nudge of the hip here, leaning in just enough to press her breast against Clarke’s bicep there.  The telltale hitch in Clarke’s breath indicated that Lexa’s innocuous touches were having the desired effect.  An answering burn ignited low in Lexa’s own belly. 

Lexa sidled even closer, so that their hips and thighs actually touched.  Clarke glanced briefly at her, but Lexa kept her eyes fixed virtuously on the bowl.  She timed it so she dipped her next apple just as Clarke did.  She deliberately sloshed hers around and splashed the liquid chocolate onto both their hands and wrists.  It was warm enough to sting, but not hot enough to really burn.  Lexa merely inhaled—she’d  anticipated the slight bite—but Clarke gasped at the sudden heat.  Lexa feigned surprise, even as she made sure her apple was liberally coated in chocolate when she pulled it out of the bowl.  She twirled the stick between her fingers, sending out a thin spray of melted chocolate across both their cheeks and necks.  Clarke hissed again.  Lexa’s stomach muscles quivered with the effort of holding in her laughter.  She widened her eyes theatrically.  “Oh, crap.  Sorry.” 

Clarke arched an eyebrow but said nothing.  Lexa bit the inside of her cheek to suppress her grin.  She dunked her apple in the chocolate again, harder this time, and again gave it a little spin that splattered chocolate across their faces and upper chests.  “Shit, sorry babe.”  Clarke let her apple drop back into the bowl and turned her head to look at her.  “You did that on purpose,” she accused.

Lexa stopped trying to hide her grin.  She slopped another apple in the bowl and didn’t even bother letting the excess chocolate drip off before flinging gobs of it with another quick twist of her fingers.  “Oops,” she said disingenuously.

Clarke’s eyes flashed dangerously.  “I’m serious, quit it!”

Lexa gently smacked her chocolate-saturated apple against Clarke’s cheek.  She leaned into Clarke’s startled yelp and smirked, “Make me,” as she trailed the sticky substance down Clarke’s neck.

“Oh, you did _not_!”  Clarke growled in outrage.  She ignored her apple and instead stuck her hand directly into the bowl, scooped up three fingers of chocolate, and slapped Lexa’s chin and neck with it.

Lexa enjoyed the indignant heave of Clarke’s breasts and the mottled flush of arousal spreading down her throat.  _God, she’s hot when she’s pissed_.  Her own blood throbbed in her nipples and her core and she needed Clarke to crack _soon_ , before her game backfired and she broke herself.  There was barely any space between their bodies now.  “Bring it, Griffin,” Lexa goaded.  She dipped a whole handful of chocolate and let her hand linger as she slathered it over Clarke’s cleavage. 

Clarke gasped and a berserk blue flame lit her eyes.  She picked up the bowl with both hands and dumped the remainder of the now-lukewarm chocolate down the front of Lexa’s tank top.  It was Lexa’s turn to loose a startled cry that edged into a moan as the gooey mess oozed over her breasts and trickled lower, stimulating already-sensitive nerve endings.  Clarke shoved the bowl aside, forgotten, and cut off Lexa’s moan by seizing her cheeks with both hands and crushing their lips together. 

Lexa opened her mouth automatically for Clarke’s seeking tongue, neither of them making any pretense of subtlety.  Her own hands crept to Clarke’s nape, smearing chocolate through the fine strands of hair and holding her desperately close.  Lexa’s tongue swiped deeper, drunk on the flavor of chocolate and _Clarke_.  Clarke’s teeth grazed roughly at her bottom lip and Lexa vaguely realized that the keening growl she heard came from her own throat.  Her flagging self-control disintegrated.  She needed to feel Clarke _now_ : the heated smoothness of her inner thighs, the flex and give of her buttocks under Lexa’s grasping hands, her fluttering tremor of anticipation and relieved slackness when she pushed inside. 

Lexa twisted her hips and pinned Clarke’s waist against the counter.  She shifted her thigh between Clarke’s legs and egged on her grinding hips as their hands fumbled to strip off each other’s clothes.  Their kisses turned sloppier, dirtier.  Lexa ripped Clarke’s shirt over her head and tossed it away, licking a trail down the candy-slicked column of her neck.  She didn’t bother unhooking Clarke’s bra, instead tugging down the satin cups to free her breasts.  She licked long, slow circles around her nipples, relishing the sugary sweetness of the chocolate and the salty tang of Clarke’s sweat, before finally dragging the rough edge of her tongue over one of the stiff peaks and drawing it into her mouth.  Clarke’s head fell back in a silent moan, her hands torn between fisting in Lexa’s hair or peeling away her sticky tank top.  She compromised by rucking Lexa’s top up and off with one hand and weaving the other through Lexa’s curls.  Her eyes squeezed shut at the skin-to-skin contact and the comforting aroma of chocolate melting on their bodies.   

Lexa deliberately sucked a bite into the underside of Clarke’s breast to force her to refocus on her.  Clarke’s eyes snapped open.  “ _Fuck_ , Lex,” she whimpered. 

Lexa nipped at her again, more softly this time, and looked up at her through her lashes.  “Oh, I’m going to,” she promised.  Her eyes flashed with a reckless glint.  “You’ll _know_ when I’m fucking you, Clarke,” she murmured confidently.  And then Clarke made _that_ noise, the little, urgent, breathless one that set Lexa’s waking dreams afire, and she couldn’t hold back any longer. 

Lexa unbuttoned Clarke’s jeans and sank to her knees in front of her, ruthlessly yanking Clarke’s jeans and panties down with her.  She barely allowed Clarke time to kick them out of the way before her mouth was on her.  Normally she liked to take her time and give it to Clarke slow, drawing out her pleasure and savoring the journey, but right now her own blood was pumping and she wanted nothing more than to feel Clarke’s release crashing upon her tongue and hands.  Her tongue sloughed through Clarke’s folds, making her shudder and cry out.  Lexa’s hands crept up the backs of Clarke’s thighs and gripped her ass, holding her steady while she tongued a kiss against her entrance. 

Clarke shuddered into her mouth and slapped both of her arms out wide on the counter to keep herself from falling.  “ _Jesus_ , Lexa,” she panted.  Lexa withdrew just enough to nuzzle her face against the inside of Clarke’s thighs, marking her with the chocolate residue left on her cheeks.  She knew the evidence of her claiming would wash away in the shower, but the visual and the very possessiveness of the act nearly brought her to the verge of her own climax. 

“I love the taste of you, Clarke,” Lexa husked against her skin.  “So much better than chocolate.”  She licked a broad stripe up, up to Clarke’s very center, making her convulse again.  She gazed up at Clarke and locked lust-glazed eyes with her.  “Hold on to me, baby, I’ve got you.”  She hummed her approval as Clarke tangled her fingers in her hair and clutched her eagerly.  Lexa lapped into her, taking pride in the barely verbal sounds that her efforts elicited from Clarke’s throat.  Lexa worked quickly, the rhythm of Clarke’s needy hips against her mouth letting her know she was close.  When she gauged the moment was right, she swiftly slipped two fingers inside her and began thrusting slow and deep while her tongue fluttered a steady pattern over her clit.

Clarke threw her head back and howled.  She gave herself over to Lexa’s unrelenting pace and bucked shamelessly against her face and fingers.  Lexa reveled in the musky tang slicking her chin, the pulsing clench of Clarke’s walls around her fingers, the sting of her hands pulling at her hair.  She loved Clarke like this: wanton and uninhibited, willingly taking everything Lexa had to give and more.  She squeezed her own thighs together to stem her own rapidly building arousal and concentrated on bringing Clarke to the breaking point.  Lexa gave Clarke no quarter, powering her inexorably higher until her climax burst upon her in wave after wave of racking tremors.  She worked Clarke through her orgasm, steadily winding her down and easing her fingers and lips aside once the sensitivity became too much.  Clarke let her shaky legs give way.  She slid down the cupboard and into Lexa’s waiting arms. 

Clarke’s chest heaved up and down as she struggled to regain her breath and equilibrium.  Lexa took pity on her and reached behind to her to unhook her bra, finally releasing her breasts from their confinement.

Clarke sagged with relief and slumped against Lexa’s body.  “Holy _fuck_ , Lex,” Clarke managed.  She tugged Lexa down for a deep, sloppy kiss without even allowing her a chance to wipe her chin.  They both moaned at the rich combination of sweet candy and Clarke’s salty musk.  Clarke broke the kiss and leaned her forehead against Lexa’s as she regained her bearings.   

Lexa held her close and lightly dragged her fingers up and down Clarke’s bicep in a soothing motion.  She pressed a kiss to her shoulder.  “Told you I’d help you relax,” she said, smug with satisfaction and pride at reducing Clarke to a boneless puddle on the kitchen floor. 

“Fuckin’ A,” Clarke declared fervently in the fog of her afterglow.  She eyed Lexa hungrily.  “Just wait till I return the favor.”

Lexa’s body trembled and her core ached with want even as she shook her head.  “You don’t have to, love,” she demurred.  “I just wanted you to feel good for tonight.  Besides—”  She stopped herself before she finished the thought.

“I know I don’t _have_ to, babe, but _God_ , I want to,” Clarke insisted.  “I wish you could see yourself.”  She drank Lexa in intently, taking in her tousled hair, her ruddy cheeks and kiss-swollen lips, the chocolate streaks staining her body from her clavicle down to her belly.  She sucked in a breath and kissed her again, hot and urgent.  Her fingers worked at the clasp of Lexa’s soggy bra, finally stripping off the ruined  garment and casting it aside.  Lexa whimpered into Clarke’s mouth as firm hands cupped her breasts and Clarke’s thumbs tweaked over Lexa’s straining, engorged nipples.  “What were you about to say just now?” Clarke murmured, letting her thumbs paint patterns over the pebbled flesh of Lexa’s breasts.

“What?” Lexa breathed.  How was she supposed to think with Clarke touching her like that? 

“You said ‘besides making me feel good.’  Besides what?” Clarke probed seductively.  She looked at Lexa with dangerously dark eyes and raked a teasing fingernail across Lexa’s nipple for good measure.

Lexa hissed at the sensation and felt her own inhibitions heading southward and pooling between her thighs.  After so much build up, her filter was in shreds.  “Besides…you in the kitchen,” she gasped.  Clarke tongued a kiss into the hinge of her jaw as she rambled on.  “ _Mmph_ …seeing you all domestic and intent, and your hands working—kneading out dough…or licking batter off them…or chocolate… _fuck_ , it makes me just wanna bend you over something and….”  A shudder rippled through her and she felt her whole body flush with embarrassment at the admission. 

Clarke hummed with interest.  “ _Very_ good to know,” she whispered.  “I will _definitely_ keep that in mind.”  Her mouth skated southward, tracing a path through the sticky-sweet glaze on Lexa’s skin.  “I could just Eat. You. Up,” she pronounced meaningfully, dragging her tongue over Lexa’s breast while she fumbled with Lexa’s zipper.

Lexa’s breathing was increasingly erratic and she was almost vibrating with the need to be touched.  She raised her hips and helped Clarke work her jeans and underwear off with clumsy fingers, but when Clarke lips began to venture lower, down her belly, she stopped her.  “No?” Clarke raised her eyebrows in question.

Lexa shook her head and stuttered, “Too close.  When you…I want it to last.”  Clarke nodded understanding and laid back, drawing Lexa down on top of her.  She kissed Lexa again and let her hand drift down to where Lexa needed it most, tracing her fingers over the slick patch of hair between her legs and into the slippery heat of her.  They both groaned, Lexa at finally receiving the friction she so desperately craved, and Clarke at the flood of wetness she encountered. 

“Christ, Lexa,” she gasped, impressed. 

“That’s what you do to me, Clarke,” Lexa panted.  Lexa was more molten and silky than the chocolate had been.  Clarke pumped deep into her and added a third finger.  She held her hand steady and encouraged Lexa to set the pace.  Lexa rocked down on Clarke’s fingers and ground her clit against the heel of her hand with abandon.  She was already so close she could feel her release starting to uncoil in her belly.  She cried out when Clarke met her rhythm and began to thrust upward, curling her fingers on each stroke.  A steady chant of “right there, Clarke, yes,” tumbled from her lips.  A few more focused, grinding thrusts;  Lexa’s whole body stiffened and she soared over the edge shouting Clarke’s name.   

Afterward, they slumped together on the floor for a few long moments, sated, soaking in each other’s warm embrace.  Soon, though, discomfort set in and they began to take in the scope of the mess: sticky, chocolate-stained bodies; chocolate smears on the floor and splatter on the cupboards and walls; half-finished Halloween treats lying forlornly on the counter.  Clarke sighed.  “We’d better shower and get dressed—Anya and Raven will be here soon.  I don’t think we have time to clean up the kitchen.”

Lexa rolled off of Clarke and scrambled reluctantly to her feet.  She tugged Clarke to her feet and drew her into her arms for a kiss.  “Sorry about your apples,” she offered.

Clarke rolled her eyes.  “No, you’re not.” she snorted, but met Lexa’s lips in another kiss to show she wasn’t upset.

“No, I’m really not,” Lexa agreed with a cheshire cat grin.  “I don’t think you are, either.  So, shower?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Clarke laughed at her transparency.  “ _Separate_ showers.  _One_ of us still has to run to the store and pick up some last-minute candy.”

“Already done.”  Lexa smirked cheekily. 

Clarke’s jaw dropped and she swatted at Lexa in mock indignation.  “You _planned_ this?” she scolded.

“‘Planned’ is such a strong word, Clarke,” Lexa said, her smirk widening.  She prowled toward Clarke as she backpedaled out of the kitchen.  “It’s always best to be prepared for contingencies,” she said in mock solemnity, her eyes glinting wickedly.  She lunged at Clarke and chased her, squealing, down the hall.  “So, about that shower….”     


End file.
